Raven's Peak (5 page)

He started to pack his laptop bag, planning to head home and work from there, when suddenly a man sat on the chair opposite him. He was a short and fat man with a black suit and red tie. He was sweating and had greasy, receding hair.

The man laid his arms on the table and stared at Haatim, breathing heavily. “I need your help.”

Haatim was in the middle of putting his laptop away, and he stopped, staring at the man. “Uh, what?”

“You said you are looking for a job.”

“You were listening to my conversation?”

“Not intentionally,” the man said. “But I need you to do something for me.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to—”

“I think someone is planning to kill me.”

Haatim almost dropped his laptop. He slid it into his bag and sat up in his chair. “What?”

“There’s a woman that has been following me for a few days, and I think she’s planning to kill me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Then why did you come to a library?” Haatim asked. “Why not go to the police?”

“I did,” he said. “Twice. They don’t believe me. They said I need evidence.” The man leaned back in his chair, and with a shaky hand reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a half-eaten candy bar. He took a bite, chewing with his mouth open. “I’m sorry, I eat whenever I’m anxious.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know what kind of evidence I need, but I need
someone
to take me seriously.” He pulled a picture out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “That’s her. That’s the woman who’s been following me. Her name is Abigail.”

Haatim glanced at the picture. It was of a black woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, but the image was blurry and out of focus. She was glancing over her shoulder and wearing sunglasses so he couldn’t really see her face. He looked back up at the man.

“OK…”

“So you’ll help?”

“What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Just follow her,” the man said. “Look, maybe I’m crazy. Or I’m overthinking things. Hell, maybe she just happens to go to a lot of the same places I go.”

He stuffed the last of his candy bar in his mouth and kept speaking: “But I need to know for sure. I just want you to keep an eye on her and report back. That’s all I ask. Follow her and snap some pictures.”

“And if she
is
following you?”

“Then take the pictures to the police,” the guy said. “If she is following me or…if…something happens to me.”

Haatim hesitated. “Why me?”

“I don’t have anyone else to ask,” the man said. “I can pay, but it isn’t a lot, and it won’t cover a real private eye to look into this for me.”

Haatim leaned back in his chair, trying to think through what the guy was asking. It sounded ridiculous at face value, and Haatim thought his best option was just to turn the guy down politely and send him on his way.

But, the thing was, he could use the money. He had access to funds through his parents, but he didn’t really have any income of his own. He’d planned to find a job by now, but he’d never really gotten around to looking for one.

And it
did
sound somewhat interesting. He’d been hoping to find something worth writing about and take his mind off his depression, and this sounded like something simple to keep him busy. The guy acted a little shady, but who was Haatim to judge?

He was always telling himself he should step out of his comfort zone. Maybe this was the perfect way to do it.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “For a couple of days?”

The guy lit up. “You will? Oh, that’s fantastic. Thank you so much.”

He reached his hand out, and Haatim shook it. The guy’s palm was greasy and sweaty, and he rubbed his hand on his sweatpants after.

“What do you need from me?”

Haatim thought for a second. He knew exactly nothing about trying to tail someone except that he would need an expensive camera. “Do you know anywhere that she likes to hang out?”

“A couple of places. I can give you the addresses of different places I’ve seen her. But, if you follow me, then she’s bound to turn up.”

“You’re that confident that she’s following you?”

“Completely,” the guy said.

“All right,” Haatim said. “I can meet with you tomorrow and we can find someplace for me to start.”

“Sure,” the guy said. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Haatim. It said his name was George Wertman. “I really appreciate this. You have no idea.”

They shook hands again, and the fat man stood up and left the library. Haatim sat at his table for a few more minutes, trying to decide if this was a good idea of a bad one. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but honestly, how hard could it be?”

Haatim was up early the next morning. He shaved off the stubble on his cheeks, combed his hair, and put on some fresh and comfortable clothes. He’d done laundry the night before—the first time in over two weeks—and picked up an expensive camera. It was something he’d charged to his parents, but he doubted they would mind since it was for a productive purpose.

He honestly doubted he would need to tell them anything about the guy he’d met in the library. The more he thought about it, the more he figured the man was just paranoid or racist. Or both. He probably didn’t have anyone following him and nothing strange, and if he was going to pay Haatim to do nothing, then Haatim wasn’t about to refuse his money.

And now that Haatim had the camera, he actually found the prospect of taking pictures to be exciting. He’d never really thought about being a photographer, but he did think of himself as creative, and maybe this would be just the spark he needed to forget about his grief.

He met George at the library once more, though this time outside on the benches. The man was wearing a different and grimier suit, and he was eating a cheeseburger, fries, and milkshake on a bench when Haatim walked up.

“Gorgeous day,” George said, taking an enormous bite from his sandwich and chewing. He dabbed at his forehead, which was drenched in sweat. He looked less nervous than the previous day, but not by much. “Ready to get started?”

Haatim nodded. “I’ve got my stuff. Just act normal, and I’ll follow along and keep an eye out for anything strange.”

“I’ve got a couple of meetings in a few minutes,” George said. “So it would be boring for you. But I have a better idea. I spotted her this morning at the park up the road.”

“When?”

“Fifteen minutes ago. But I bet she’s still there. You could go get a good look at her while I wrap up some business.”

“Sure,” Haatim said. George handed him the picture he had, but when he did he smeared mustard across it. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Haatim climbed back into his car and drove to the park. It was sunny and warm, so there were a lot of kids and their parents out playing. He saw a group tossing a Frisbee and heard people shouting.

He found a parking spot near the back of the lot and scanned the area. It only took him a few seconds to spot Abigail: she was sitting on a park bench and looked like she was just relaxing and enjoying the day. She had on a pair of sunglasses and her hair pulled back in a bun.

Haatim took the new camera and fiddled with the settings. It had a zoom lens, but it wasn’t as high resolution as he would have liked. He snapped a couple of pictures but couldn’t manage to get a clean one of her face.

After about ten minutes she stood and left the bench in the opposite direction. He checked his pictures, deleting the blurry ones, and headed back to the library. He waited for about an hour for George to show up. This time, he had a hotdog, and there was a ketchup stain on his suit coat.

“Did you find her?” George asked.

“Yes,” Haatim replied. He held up the camera and flipped through several of the images, showing George. “That’s her?”

“Definitely,” George replied. “That’s the woman who’s been following me.”

“What now?”

“If we can get any pictures that incriminate her, I can take them to the police.”

“And I can post them on my blog?”

George nodded. “Anything we find you can use.”

“All right,” Haatim said.

“We won’t want to meet again for a couple of days so she doesn’t get suspicious,” George added. “Once you have all of the pictures, give me a call, and I’ll set up a time.”

Haatim Arison sat in his apartment in his underwear, listening to classic rock and working at his desk. He drummed his fingers on the table and stared at the word document open on his laptop, wondering if there was anything he needed to add or rephrase. It was the blog post he’d been working on for the last couple of days as he followed George Wertman around the city.

And it was almost finished. He had confirmed on that first day that George was definitely being followed. At first Haatim wasn’t sure why she was stalking him, but at least he’d discovered that George wasn’t paranoid.

He had enough now to go to the police and they might or might not arrest the woman. He had some incriminating photos, but nothing illegal. George wanted him to bring the photos to the police, but Haatim had decided he wanted to write a blog post to go along with it. Something he could post to say
he
had helped capture a stalker. George was hesitant at first, but Haatim sold him on the idea.

It was kind of exciting, actually, following this woman around the city and snapping pictures. The crime blog idea had just been something he threw out when talking to Kelly in the library. It was more just to pretend like he was being productive than anything else, but now that he was doing it he had to admit it was kind of fun.

And super easy, too. He’d always imagined being a sleuth or a gumshoe detective and tailing someone. He assumed it would he harder than they made it out in the books and movies, but things had been going really well for him. Plus, he was getting paid, which made it all the sweeter. Maybe it wasn’t enough for a career, but this could, at the very least, be a really fun hobby.

His phone started ringing. He glanced down and saw that it was George calling him. He answered it.

“Hello.”

“We need to meet,” George said. His voice sounded thick, muddled. “I need those pictures.”

“All right,” Haatim said. “I’m almost done writing my blog post—”

“Just publish your stupid blog,” George interrupted. “Finish it now.”

“I don’t have any good pictures of her,” Haatim argued. “They are from too far away, and something is usually covering her face.”

“Doesn’t matter. We need this to be over with now before she decides to kill me.”

Haatim smirked. George was completely paranoid about that possibility, but he had seen no evidence at all that the woman planned to kill the big guy. Of course, Haatim knew telling George that would just set him off, so he decided to just play along. Might as well let him keep his crazy delusions.

“I don’t have any pictures of her doing anything illegal,” Haatim replied. “Right now, it is just photos of a girl, and I look like a stalker. If I bring these to the police they’ll ask why I’ve been taking so many pictures of her.”

“I don’t care,” George replied.

Haatim hesitated. The more he’d learned about George, the less he liked him. George was arrogant and annoying and came across as a complete jerk and bully. Haatim was also fairly sure George was involved in a lot of illegal activity.

Which meant that maybe Abigail was following him for the same reason he was following her. Maybe she was gathering evidence on George for some unknown employer.

Or, worse, maybe she worked for the police and was keeping an eye on him. It was impossible to tell, but the further things went, the surer he was that trusting George completely was a bad idea.

“Do you have a lot of enemies,” he asked. “She
is
following you, but that’s all. Maybe she is trying to get evidence on you.”

“She’s planning to kill me.”

“No, she isn’t,” Haatim said bluntly.

“What do you know about it?” George asked, defensive now.

“I’ve been following her for two days, and she hasn’t done
anything
suspicious.”

“And, so what? You’re an expert now?”

“I didn’t say—”

“Publish your damn blog post and give me the photos.”

Haatim pursed his lips. “No.”

“No?”

“Not until we have more evidence,” he said. “I’m not posting negative things about her until I know more.”

George was silent for a long minute. “Give me the photos,” he said calmly.

“What?”

“Give me
all
of the photos. Tonight. Or I’m going to come get them myself.”

Haatim felt a chill run down his spine. The way George said it was eerie. He’d never given George his address, but he had no doubts that the man could figure out where he lived.

Luckily, his apartment was in an upscale part of town and had security. No one would be dumb enough to come out here and make threats like that. His apartment was secure.

Still…Haatim didn’t like the idea of pissing this guy off. He didn’t want to keep looking over his shoulder when he went outside, and George didn’t seem like the kind of guy to forgive easily.

“All right,” he said. “Where do you want them?”

“Tomorrow morning. Meet me at the library—eight sharp.”

“OK,” Haatim said.

George hung up, and Haatim dropped the phone on his desk. He was annoyed and frustrated by the entire situation, but he thought he’d made the right decision. George could deal with his problems on his own, and now it was time for Haatim to extricate himself.

Plus, he’d gotten what he wanted out of the situation. It had been difficult and rewarding tailing Abigail around the city, and it helped clear his mind and bring him back into reality. He’d been sad for so long, but now he could feel that spark again where he wanted to achieve something.

And he did want to post the article on his blog. He just wanted to get it right and not run the risk of calling out an innocent woman he didn’t even know.

What he needed was more information or, at least, pictures of her doing something illegal. He also needed cleaner pictures in general and one good headshot of her. That would be the main image on his blog.